


Kelly, J

by crunchie_morris



Series: Kelly, J [1]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 20:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11974434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchie_morris/pseuds/crunchie_morris
Summary: The boy still ain't woken up. Don't tell my doctors, but I did sneak outta my bed to get a closer look at him. The name on his wristband is "Kelly, J." So, I'm gonna call him J.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Woah, the notes are included here. I'm already loving this way more than fanfiction.net, holy heck.  
> Alright, hi! Some of you might recognize this fic as it is a repost from my fanfiction.net account. I started writing this one nearly a year ago? So, I hope I've improved since this!  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

**10/07**

I love the change in the weather. When there's that just right breeze that ain't too cold and ain't too hot, just in between...that's my idea of perfect.

But, of course, it ain't my leg's idea of perfect. If my leg had its way, the weather would always stay just the same. Whenever it changes, my leg is like, "Ahhh! I can't handle change! Time to cause Crutchie immense pain!!"

My leg can be a real jerk sometimes. 'Cause, I could be outside playing hide-and-seek with Romeo, but my leg thought a better plan would be collapsing yesterday and not moving at all afterward, so I could be sent to the hospital.

Again.

I've already been here like twice this year, give me a break.

But, whatever. The food ain't too bad, as far as hospital food goes. The nurses are nice, but they're condescending, like usual.

Is this long enough for a journal entry? It's almost a full page. Or, a full half-page. Good enough.

**10/8**

Ahh, Ms. Anderson, do I have to write an entry every day I'm gone? I was just put on reeeeeaaaaaaaally heavy pain meds and I can barely keep my eyes open. You know, I'm just gonna write double tomorrow cause I need sleep. I'm gonna hate myself tomorrow, but...I dunno where I was going with that, I'm just gonna sleep now, thanks.

**10/9**

Okay, it's actually a good thing I said I'd write double today, cause a lot happened.

So, geez, where do I start? It was real late last night, and I was passed out because of those dang meds, right? Like, I was _out._  I thought nothing could wake me up, but then, there was all this thumping around me. I wanted to just roll over and go back to sleep, but I was also in a hospital room alone, so I was a bit freaked out. Was it the phantom of the hospital coming to get me? (Just kidding, there ain't no phantom, haha.)

Anyway, I thought I should check out what's going on, so I opened my eyes and saw a bunch of nurses. I was thinking, _oh no, is something going wrong with me?_

But, it wasn't me they was there for. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that they was bringing in another kid. It looked like he wasn't conscious from what I could see. They hooked him up to all that fancy equipment they only hook you up to when stuff is real bad. Like, I ain't been hooked up to that stuff in a long time.

So, I asked what was going on and they was like, "Don't worry, Andrew, just get some rest." And I'm like, "No, what's going on with this kid?" But, they was all babying me again and saying everything's fine, yadda, yadda, yadda. So, I gave up and went back to sleep, because that sounded much better than arguing with a bunch of nurses at 3 a.m.

I had to wonder if maybe this was just some weird, vivid dream from the pain meds. But, I woke up this morning, and sure enough, the kid was there.

I stared at him for a while and, my gosh, does he look bad. He's got these bruises all up and down his arms and legs, and this big black eye. He's all pale, and he's got bandages everywhere. He looks sad, too. I wish I could help him.

Heck, I don't even know his name.

He ain't woken up yet. It's kinda scary. Really scary, actually. I got this beeping next to me and it's like, wow, that's his heartbeat. I'm always scared it's gonna slow down or worse.

I asked the nurse who gave me breakfast this morning what was going on with him. She said that they'se gonna be bringing him to another room as soon as there's an opening and that they just brought him to my room because there was an extra bed and it was an emergency. I told her I didn't care if he stayed in this room or not, I just wanted to know what happened to him. She didn't say, though-she just told me he'd be better. I swear, those nurses treat me like I'm three.

Whatever. I just hope she's right, cause I really don't wanna hear that beeping slow down.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crutchie talks about Jack more?

**10/10**

Geez, my leg is gonna kill me. I thought I was getting better yesterday, but no, no, no. It'll pass, I know it, but 'til then, I'se gotta wait around for the doctors to decide what medicine to use and what procedures to use and blah, blah, blah.

Romeo visited today, though. He told me about this bet that Race lost and how Buttons found a turtle. He didn't keep the turtle, though.

Also, the boy still ain't woken up. Don't tell my doctors, but I did sneak outta my bed to get a closer look at him. The name on his wristband is "Kelly, J." So, I'm gonna call him J. He really is beat up. There are even more bruises I couldn't see from my bed. He doesn't even look that much older than me.

I hope J wakes up soon.

 

**10/11**

This just in: J was muttering in his sleep. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but sure enough, he was making noises. That's a good thing, right?

I found myself talking to him earlier. Don't judge me, Miss. When you ain't got any visitors (besides Romeo, but he's little, so he can only come when someone brings him), it gets real lonely, real fast.

"J?" I'd asked. "I don't know if you can hear me. I'se heard that people can sometimes hear when they're in a coma. So, uh, hi there. I'se Crutchie. I'm calling you J. Hopefully, you can tell me what to call you later."

But, that's as far as I got, 'cause a nurse came in and I didn't want him to think I was talking to myself.

Which I wasn't.

Miss, I'm starting to wonder if I'm gonna regret telling you all this. You don't really read every single students' journal entry, now do you?

 

**10/12**

I talked to J some more today.

He talked back.

Kind of.

Just more mutters.

I told him about my leg and how it got this way (I don't want to get into it. Not that I don't trust you, but I figured I could tell J because hey, he ain't gonna remember it.) I told him about all the different places I'se lived and how I'm in a group home right now. I asked him about his family. He didn't answer me, just kinda mumbled stuff.

So far, no one has come to visit him. I hope he ain't all alone or something.

I asked the nurses when he'll be getting better. They said they didn't want to move him until he woke up.

They still didn't answer my question.

 

**10/13**

nurses had to run tests today i dunno what they did put me ona buncha sleep meds and pain meds for it im all ~~woozie~~ woozy now. woozys a funny word cause it sounds just like how it feels wooooozyyy. cant sleep ~~taked~~ talked to j some more. forget what I said ~~tho~~ ~~thouh~~   ~~thow~~    ~~isnt there a g~~    ~~thouhg~~   ~~im really high hah~~ tho. j has good hair looks verry soft,, gonna try sleep again good ni

 

**10/14**

The doctors said I've got to stay here for at least another week, if not two. I don't get what they're hoping to get out of having me stay here. They ain't gonna find a cure, make me magically walk again.

But, I am kinda glad to stay, just to see what happens to J. The bruises have faded, a little bit. Ain't that good?

I still can't tell what he was saying. Believe me, I tried! But, it's hard. It's just a bunch of buzzy syllables run together, very softly. He's hard to hear over that machine he's hooked up to.

I try not to complain about my leg. I don't want to be a bother or whiny or something. I could have it worse. But, I did complain to J today. I really hope he doesn't remember what he hears, though. Now, I'm afraid that he'll wake up and see me and think, _Oh, geez, it's that whiny kid who was talking to me._

But, I'd rather have him wake up and say that than the other option.

I try not to think about the other option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm please tell me my writing has improved since I wrote this, dear God. The only reason I'm reposting this is because the fic I'm currently working on is a sequel to this so just embrace the cringe here and hope the next one is better.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crutchie uses click bait at the beginning of the chapter but the plot actually advances at the end

**10/15**

J WOKE UP.

Well, maybe he didn't wake up, per say. His eyes were still closed, and he didn't seem conscious, but he said something. He responded to me, with actual words.

It was real brief, right? But, it happened! 

So, I was just talking to him, like I do. I was telling him about the weather outside, and how I wished I could at least open the window and let in a little breeze. Then, I told him I hoped it wouldn't be too cold. It can get real cold in Manhattan, I reminded him. In case he forgot, I don't know.

Then, he muttered something. Louder, though. Louder than anything he's ever muttered.

I glanced over at him. "You got somethin' to say, J?"

Then, I heard it. I understood him, I did!

"Not like that everywhere," He mumbled. "Not in the west."

I was so excited. I asked him what he said again, even though I'd heard him that time. I just wanted to hear him speak again. 

But, he didn't. 

I called the nurse. I got this button by my bed to call him, and I pressed it over and over and over. The nurse was real scared when he came in, thinking I was in lots of pain or something, so I felt bad. But, I told him about J and what he'd said.

The nurse knelt by his bedside and tried to get him to speak again. 

But, he didn't. 

The nurse told me that maybe it was a dream.

Maybe it was. I'se been drifting in and out, on those pain meds. It's sometimes kinda hard to tell when I fall asleep and when I wake up.

But, this couldn't have been a dream. It...it felt too real. Those medicine dreams can be really vivid, but this was different, I swear.

He spoke.

He had to.

 

**10/16**

I've been waiting for him to wake up all day. He's stirring in his sleep and muttering more. It's gonna come soon, I swear.

I keep thinking about his words, and what they might mean.

He said something about the west...maybe he's from the west? Maybe...he's a cowboy. And, he got all beaten up in a duel. 

J's gonna wake up soon, and he's gonna go back to the west. He'll be a cowboy again. 

Ugh.

Do cowboys even exist anymore? 

  
  


**10/17**

It happened today.

And, this time, it really happened.

I was reading (doing that required reading for you, Miss. Hope you're proud.) when I heard the mutters from J. They were the loud kind, but I couldn't understand them.

"Is that so, J?" I'd asked. (I always try and acknowledge him. Just in case he can hear me.)

But, they kept getting louder. Then, they stopped suddenly.

There was a silence.

Not looking away from my book, I asked, "J? You okay?"

I got a response.

A real one.

"Where'm I?" Came a voice, tired and pained. But, I recognized it.

I finally looked away from the book to see J. But, his eyelids weren't closed. No, big, round, brown eyes stared back at me, blinking over and over. They were glassy, but observant, if that makes sense. They landed on me, still blinking blearily.

"Oh my gosh," I whispered. "J-J!"

The eyes filled with fear suddenly. Not just any fear, though. It's that fear that really hurts to see, do you know the kind? 

"Where am I?" He repeated, his voice hoarse."Where is he? Oh, God, oh, God, he's gonna kill me."

I tried to smile, to be comforting. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're in a hospital."

"Where is he?" J questioned, his voice sharp yet disoriented. "Where? Is he here? Is he waitin' for me?"

"I-I don't know," I replied, feeling my forced smile fade. "Who is he?"

J shook his head and tried to sit up, only to hold back a cry of pain. He put his hand on his head and shut his eyes tight. "Oh, God, he's gonna kill me," He breathed. "I swear, he-he was."

I pressed the button for the nurse slyly. "Ain't no one's gonna kill you here," I told him as I did so. "In fact, they'se been trying to keep ya alive here, I can tell."

The nurse came in. "Andrew, no more false alarms." He sighed, before his eyes settled on J.

J stared up at him, wide-eyed in fear.

"He really woke this time," I smiled. "See?"

"M-Mr. Kelly?" The nurse asked. He knelt down by J's bedside. "Are you okay?"

J blinked and, I could barely hear him, but I could have sworn he said, "He prefers to be called Crutchie."

The nurse furrowed his brow. "What?"

J pointed a shaking finger at me. "Th-that kid, he told me his name was Crutchie. You c-called him Andrew."

The nurse's face broke into a warm smile. "Mr. Kelly, how are feeling?"

J shook his head, falling back into that fear."I-I gotta get outta here. He's-he's gonna-

"Shh, shh," The nurse cut him off gently. "You're okay, Mr. Kelly. He's taken care of now."

J looked confused. "What?"

"Snyder," I could see J flinch when the nurse said the name. "We found out about all the bad things he did. He can't hurt you anymore."

J's eyelids were drooping. "F-for sure?

"I promise," The nurse said. "Get some rest, Mr. Kelly. We'll ask you some questions later?"

J nodded, his eyes closed again. "'S'long he's gone."

The rest after that is a blur. More doctors came and shook him awake, though he was mighty tired. They asked him his name and the date, his age and where he was. I couldn't hear his answers, though, because the doctors closed the curtain around his bed and he spoke real quiet.

Now, he's sleeping more.

I don't know where to go from here. I want to wake him up, just to make sure he's okay. Heck, just to make sure he will wake up. 

I don't know where to go from here.

I can't stop replaying it all in my head, though.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys bond and it gets Gayer

**10/18**

Update on J: J stands for Jack. Jack Kelly. He told me himself.

I wanted to talk to him some more, find out more about him, but I wasn't real sure how to start, since he's been sleeping on and off, and I didn't want to wake him. (I don't blame him for all the sleeping, though-he's exhausted, the poor guy.)

But, while I was reading, about mid-day, he talked to me.

"You know, it's awful quiet 'round here when you ain't jabberin' to me." 

I looked over to see him staring at me, with what might have been a smile. I could feel my cheeks go all red. (I hate when that happens.) "So, you heard me?" I asked, embarrassed.

"Well, I think it was you," He said, sounding tired. "Comas are weird, man."

I chuckled. It's hard to think of a response when you're used to the person not usually talking back.

"Crutchie, is it?" He asked when I said nothing.

I nodded. It felt nice to hear him say my name. He has a nice voice. It's quiet-though that's probably because he's so tired-and...I don't really know how to describe it. It's just satisfying to hear him speak. 

"Nice to meet ya. Properly." I told him.

"You too," He said. "I'm Jack." (Told you.)

"How are ya, Jack?" I'd asked. (Don't know what kind of answer I expected. He just woke up from a coma.)

Jack groaned. "Eh, not great, if I'm gonna be honest. I feel incredibly sh***y." (shoot, can I write that here, Miss? I mean, this is a school journal and all, and I know you don't want curse words or nothing, I get it, but I mean, it's a direct quote from him. Ah, I'll just put the little stars like they do in TV captions and hope you don't take off points.) 

"I'm sorry," I'd said. I didn't know what else to say. 

Jack shrugged, then flinched at the movement. "What can ya do?" He asked, his voice thin and pained. Then, he let out a big sigh real slowly. 

There was a silence. Jack closed his eyes, and I wondered if he'd fallen asleep again. But, then, he asked, "How's that leg of yours treatin' ya?"

"It's bein' mighty rude, to be honest," I'd joked. "But, nothin' I ain't used to."

"Well, that sucks," Jack responded frankly. "It always hurts like this?"

"It's worse right now," I told him. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be here,"

"Right, right," Jack nodded groggily. Then, he shook his head and mumbled, "God, this is so weird. So frickin' weird." He paused, then glanced over at me. "Hey, do you know what-what stuff they brought here? With me when they brought me?"

"I, uh, didn't see the stuff they brought," I admitted. "It was dark, and the doctors had me all drugged up."

Jack sighed and muttered a curse under his breath. "Do ya know if they brought a sketchbook?"

I shook my head. "I wasn't entirely sure they'd actually brought you here 'til I saw you again in the morning."

Jack nodded, his face falling. I apologized, but he waved his hand at me. "'S'fine."

Then, he fell asleep again.

So, now I know, he draws. I also know he looks real sad. I thought that might go away once he woke up, but it didn't. He sounds sad, too. 

I can hear him breathing right now, and it sounds like he's having trouble with it. I almost want to wake him up and ask if he's okay. I won't do that, though.

The doctor said they want to try and have me walk around tomorrow. I'm a little scared my leg is gonna give out again. It's numb right now, with all the meds. But, I'm not super duper tired, so that's something.

Anyways, I'll go now. Wish me luck with the walking. (Actually, you can't do that. You won't see any of this until I turn it all in. Whatever. Wish me luck anyways.)

 

**10/19**

Jack woke up in the middle of the night last night. 

"Crutchie. Crutchie. Crutchie."

He kept saying my name until I woke up and asked him what was happening.

"Crutchie, you're here," He whispered, his voice shaking. "You're here, right?"

"'Course I am," I said drowsily.

"Crutchie, I-I hate to ask this, but can you talk to me? Just talk to me for a bit? Please?"

I flicked on the lamp on my bedside table and looked at Jack. He looked scared, like he did when he first slipped out of the coma. That kind of scared that breaks your heart. I figured out why it breaks my heart; it tells me he's seen some real bad things. So, I told him of course I could talk to him, and asked him what to talk about.

"Anything, I don't care. Tell me about your leg, tell me about your-your family, tell me about you, please. Or-or whatever, I don't care. Just talk to me like I'm sleeping again, like you used to."

Well, that was much easier when he  _ was  _ asleep. Not that I wanted him to be again. "Um, well, I live in a foster home."

"Oh, God, don't talk about that," His voice cracked. I looked over and saw that he was shaking. "I, um, sorry, but something else, please."

I nodded, trying to shake the sleep from my brain. "Alright. Well...I got a story, then. My buddy Romeo came to visit me the other day, and he told me that our pal Buttons found this turtle. But, it was real funny, because ya don't find turtles just walkin' around Manhattan, right? But, Buttons found this turtle in the front yard of our school! So, Buttons named the turtle. He named it after me, actually, since I'm in the hospital right now. What an honor, huh? He named it, and was ready to bring it back to our home and keep it. He was gonna put in a little bowl and keep it in our room. We all share a room, with tons a bunks. So, he was about to leave with it, but then, this teacher was all, 'Where are ya going with my turtle?!' Turns out, it was a class pet for one of the younger grades! I kinda wish it wasn't; I woulda liked a pet, but oh, well." I paused. "Was that good?"

Jack took a moment to respond. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Can...can you keep that light on, Crutchie?"

I said yes.

"I'm sorry," He sighed. "To wake you up and be this way. I just had a nightmare, which I know is stupid, I'm way too old for this, I should-"

"Hey, I get them, too," I told him. "It's gonna be okay, I promise."

He chuckled. "Thanks, but that's a tough promise to make."

"Well, if anyone tries to hurt you, I'll fight 'em off with my crutch," I joked, cracking a smile. "It's a highly effective defense mechanism."

Jack closed his eyes. "I'm sure it is. Thanks. Thank you."

"Of course," I replied. 

I watched him for a bit, maybe waiting for him to say something else, or maybe just waiting for his eyebrows to un-knit. That didn't happen, though. He eventually just fell into a tense sleep.

I rolled over and tried to sleep myself, but just before I could, I heard Jack  thickly mumble, probably asleep, "You'se real nice, Crutchie."

I smiled. "So are you, Jack."

 

**10/19 (later)**

Well, what do you know?

I try to walk. You know, a normal human function, something I've been doing since age one. And, of course; my leg gives out in the middle of the hall. 

I’d barely stepped out the door, all of a sudden, a sharp pain shot up my calf and bam! I was on the floor. I might have even screamed. It was way too dramatic. It drew a lot of attention. I just wanted a hole to appear on the floor for me to just fall into, and never have to face anyone in the hospital again.

Now, all the nurses are real concerned. They was almost gonna let me go, but no. Now they'se gotta run more tests, now they'se gotta consider surgery.

“I take it the whole walking thing didn't go so well?” Jack asked after a ton of nurses brought me back and messed with my leg for a bit.

“Unless you count collapsing as going well,” I grumbled. “Only I was still conscious; just my leg gave out, so I had to endure the embarrassment.”

“That sucks,” Jack said, and it seemed sincere. “The nurses told me I’se probably gonna have some trouble walking, too, after…” He trailed off and motioned to his injuries. “All this sh**.” (Seriously, please don’t take points off. I can’t help it that Jack’s got the mouth of a sailor, ma’am.) He added with a grin, “Hey, maybe when we get outta here, you could gimme lessons on how to walk with crutches?”

“Oh, man, you’se come to the right guy,” I laughed. “I’se had all kinda crutches. Forearm crutches, underarm crutches, one crutch, two crutches...red crutches, blue crutches.I can help you, for sure.”

Jack grinned again. Then, he turned serious and said, “Hey, you know it's not your fault, right?”

I looked at him, confused. “What?”

“Your trouble with walking,” Jack replied. “You seemed pretty upset when you came back in here, but, it ain't your fault. It's that condition you got, the one you was tellin’ me about. But, it’s that HSP thing ya got, you can't help it.”

I felt my cheeks go all red, like they do. You know; it happens when you call on me and I wasn't listening. “Thanks, Jack.” Trying to change the subject away from my leg, I said, “Man, it's weird that you remember all the stuff I told you. I don't even remember everything I told you.”

“Well, it ain't like I remember it all word-for- word,” Jack shrugged. “I got the the gist of it, though.”

“Part of the reason I don’t remember is ‘cause I was on all those sleep meds a few days ago,” I chuckled. “I got this huge phobia of needles, so whenever they’se gotta run blood tests and stuff, they’se gotta knock me out, or else I get real bad panic attacks. Only, the pills never make me fall asleep, they just get me all loopy.”

Jack smirked. “Oh, yeah, I remember that.  You was...you was somethin’ else.”

I could feel my cheeks get all hot again. “Oh, yeah?”

Jack nodded. “I could barely understand you, but you was laughin’ about somethin’ or other. Also, thank you.”

“For what?”

“While on the meds, you told me I was ‘pretty for a sleeping person,’” Jack snickered. Doing air quotes, he added, “‘ _ Real  _ pretty, in fact!’”

Miss, if you thought I was red when you made me give the summary of chapter 13 of ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ when I hadn’t read it, it wasn't nothin’ compared to this. I mean, Jack  _ is _ good-looking, sure, with his hair and eyes and all that, but, I mean...I don't really know where I’se goin’ with this. Can the doctors just never give me valium again?

“Oh golly,” I managed to mutter.

Jack’s snicker turned into a full-on laugh. In fact, I ain't seen him smile that wide in the whole he's gotten here. Even though it cost me my pride, I gotta say, hearing him laugh was well worth the price. Eventually, I began laughing too, still blushing like crazy.

But, the laughter quickly turned coughing for Jack. “Woah, you okay?” I asked.

Jack couldn't catch his breath, so I pressed the button for the nurse, who came and brought him water. 

As Jack drank, the nurse asked him how it felt.

“Like an elephant is sittin’ on my chest while someone's stabbing my ribs,” Jack croaked.

The nurse knit his eyebrows. “Do you know what caused this coughing fit?”

Jack smirked and glanced at me. In a still-hoarse voice, he chuckled, “Just my ravishing good looks.”

I covered my mouth with my hand and sputtered out a laugh.

The nurse rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Glad to see you boys are getting along. Take it easy, Jack.”

"Hey, I can't help all this," Jack quipped, motioning to his face. 

"Oh, shut up!" I continued laughing as the nurse left. "I was under the influence."

"You shouldn't do drugs, Crutchie," Jack said with a snort. He coughed again and took a swig of water. 

"You know, they got you on pain meds, too," I pointed out. "So, you'se a hypocrite."

Jack chuckled. "Touché."

I laughed again. Turns out, my leg didn't ruin my day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woahhhhhhhhh we're halfway there


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Other characters?? In this story??? It's more likely than you think.

**10/20**

So.

Something kinda scary happened today.

Some cop or social worker or someone important like that came to talk to Jack. We was just talking, he was telling me about his favorite city, Santa Fe, when a nurse told him he had a visitor.

Jack tensed up immediately, his face dropping. "You told me he was in jail." He said darkly, his voice shaking.

"It's not Snyder," The nurse replied softly. "I promise, you'll never have to see that man again."

"Then, who is it?" Jack smirked, but not out of joy. It was fearful. "I-I ain't got no one else."

The cop/detective/social worker/I don't know entered the room with a pad and paper. She closed the curtain around Jack's bed and started asking him questions I couldn't hear.

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on?" I asked.

The detective stuck her head out from behind the curtain and said, "This isn't any of your business, young man." and closed it.

I couldn't make out what they was saying, but it sounded very tense. I tried to read, tried to distract myself, but it was no good.

After what seemed like forever, she opened the curtain back up, said, “Thank you, Mr. Kelly. I'm really sorry I had to ask those questions. You're going to be okay now.” and left.

I glanced over at Jack, who was staring at one spot on the wall, visibly shaking. His heart monitor was beeping super fast.

“Jack?” I asked softly. “Are you okay?”

Jack shrugged, not looking at me.

“If- if you don't mind my asking...what happened?” I questioned. 

Jack snuck a sideways glance at me. “I...no.” He looked down and covered his face with his hands. “I'm sorry, I just…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I tried to smile for him. “Um...you was tellin’ me about Santa Fe? Sounds like things are pretty great there.”

Jack nodded. “It’s a dream.”

“You wanna tell me more about it?” I smirked.

Jack nodded again. “I-I can draw it for you, if you want.”

“That'd be great,” I told him.

He picked up the notepad and pencil beside his bed and launched into a drawing, immediately losing himself in his art.

As I watched him, I couldn't shake this feeling of anger and fear I had. Someone hurt him, and Jack didn't do nothing to deserve that.

 

**10/21**

Jack went to bed early yesterday, and slept a lot this morning. When he woke up, he didn't talk much. He just said good morning and started working on his Santa Fe drawing again.

“What's your favorite part about Santa Fe?” I asked him after a while.

Jack glanced at me before looking back at his paper. “I dunno,” He replied. “There are a lotta good things about Santa Fe...I guess, it's that it-it seems so free. There’s open space and fresh air and there ain't no crowds. You know your neighbors and they know you, you ain't just another face in Times Square, y’know?”

I nodded, trying to smile again. “That sounds nice.”

Jack set down his pencil and looked at me. He wasn't smiling, but his eyes had a certain brightness to them that I hadn’t seen before. “Oh, it's more than nice. It's- it's beautiful. Just, close your eyes and imagine it.” I obliged as he continued, “It’s clean and green and pretty, and all the buildings are made of clay.”

I opened an eye and raised my eyebrow at him. “Clay? How's that sturdy?”

“Hey, those buildings have been there for years!” Jack responded defensively, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “And, like I said, all your neighbors know you. They ain't just neighbors; they’se family.”

I opened both my eyes and looked at him. He looked caught in his dream, both excited and wonderstruck. “You got folks there?”

Jack scoffed. “I got folks nowhere. You?”

I shook my head. “I don't need folks. I got friends.”

Jack grinned. It was a real grin, too. It wasn't too big, but it was...what’s the word? Oh! Genuine. He gave me a genuine grin and said, “Well, if I ever get to Santa Fe, how's about you come with me, huh?”

I grinned back. “I'd like that.”

Later, a nurse came in and asked Jack how he was feeling. He said Jack’s recovery was going phenomenally quick.He asked quite a few questions about his health state before asking if he felt ready to move to his own room.

I felt one of those pits in stomach. You know, that big sinking feeling you get when someone says you “have to talk” or when you gotta get somewhere and there's lots of traffic? Like that. I figured I wouldn't see Jack again, you know? I'd...I don't know, I'd miss him.

Jack glanced at me. “I mean, I-I guess I could be moved. With some help, I mean, I could probably, uh, make it. But, um,”

Then, before I could help it, I blurted, “I wouldn't mind it if Jack stayed.” Then, I realized what I did. That was blunt, Miss. Maybe he don’t want to stay. Yikes. So, I quickly added, “I mean, if you want to, I just…”

“No, no, I'd like that,” Jack agreed, to my relief. He turned back to the nurse. “Would that be okay?”

The nurse shrugged. “Less work for us.”

Jack grinned. “Sounds good.”

Miss, I think I’se found a real friend in Jack, here.

 

**10/22**

Today was a big day. 

I learned a lot about Jack. I met some of his friends.

He still ain't had any visitors, and now I know why.

I was on my laptop trying to get some math homework done while Jack was sleeping. Or, I thought he was sleeping, but then he sat up straight and asked, “Hey, is that a computer?”

“No, it's a spaceship,” I joked.

“Do you have, like, Skype or something?” He questioned tensely.

I nodded. “Why?”

Jack's eyes lit up. “Could I borrow it? My friends ain't got a clue where I am.”

I was shocked. His friends didn't even know? It's been weeks. They must be worried sick. “Of course.”

Jack glanced at the equipment he’s hooked up to. “I...can’t exactly get over there.”

I glanced at my leg. “Well...I think I can make it over there.”

Jack frowned. “Crutch, no. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

(Did you see that, Miss? He gave me a nickname! Well, he shortened my name. I don't know, I like it.)

“No, I ain't,” I argued. “I can walk that much.”

“And how do ya know that?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

“I’se done it before,” I crossed my arms.

“With the nurse’s help,” Jack retorted.

“And without!” I shot back. “You was in a coma, you didn't see.”

“I dunno, Crutch,” Jack frowned again.

“Too late,” I announced, proceeding to get up from my bed. 

As soon as I was standing on one leg, I realized that my crutch was on the other side of the room. Well, I wasn't about to let Jack be right, now was I? No, I can make it a few feet without my crutch, even with my leg in more pain than usual. So, I basically hopped over to his bed, laptop in hand, and sat myself down next to him.

“See?” I grinned, quite satisfied with myself. 

“Well, then,” Jack chuckled and shook his head. Then, his face turned serious and he asked, “So, can you pull Skype up?”

I nodded and opened it. “What's your friend’s username?”

“Uh, let's try Davey first,” He said. “I think he has a Skype. Try, uh, ‘Walking Mouth.’ With an underscore in the middle or somethin’, I think that's what he uses for everything.”

I searched ‘walking_mouth’ and showed him the results. Jack pointed to the first one, so I requested a call with Davey.

He picked up on the last ring, looking tentative. “He-Jack!”

Jack grinned. “Did ya miss me?”

Davey ignored that and kept talking, sounding panicked. “Jack, oh my-my gosh! W-what happened? Kath and I have been calling your foster dad over and over and eventually we went to his place but there was police tape in the yard and no one was there and you look just awful! Where have you been?” He looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Katherine! It's Jack!”

“Guys, calm do-” Jack began, but he was cut off when a girl with bouncy brown hair and real big glasses who I could assume was Katherine popped into the frame. “Jack!” She exclaimed. “Jack, where the hell (that one ain't even that bad, Miss, come on) do you think you've been?! David and I have been-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you’se been lo-”

“We've been worried out of our minds!” She wasn't about to let Jack cut her off. “Jack, we’ve been scared. And, you...you disappear for weeks and you return calling from a stranger’s Skype-”

“Crutchie ain't a stranger.”

“-covered in bruises in what looks like a-a hospital?”

“Well, yeah, I'm in a hospit-”

Jack was interrupted once more when another girl with really long, dark hair walked into the room, trailed by a small boy who looked kind of like Davey. They both gasped and exclaimed Jack’s name in unison.

“You sure are popular,” I chuckled. 

“Hey, Sarah, Les,” Jack smirked, but no one else did. “Now that we got ‘hellos' outta the way, can I introdu-”

“Jack, you haven't even told us what happened,” Davey said crossly. “Are you okay? What happened? Where'd your foster dad go? Is he okay?”

“My foster dad can burn in hell,” Jack grunted.

“Jack,” Katherine said firmly. “What is going on?”

“It don’t matter anymore,” Jack replied. “I’se alive, that's what matters.”

“You look like you're barely alive,” The other girl, who I could assume was Sarah, commented, looking sad.

“I look worse than I feel, I promise,” Jack sighed. 

“Tell us what happened,” Davey demanded.

“I-It’s in the past,” Jack insisted.

Katherine groaned, then made eye contact with me. “You.”

“Me,” I echoed.

“What's your name?” She asked.

“Most people call me Crutchie,” I replied.

“Nice to meet you,” She said tensely. “Now, do you know what happened?”

I shook my head, apologetic. 

“Well, he's probably lying for Jack’s sake, since he clearly doesn't want to tell us,” Davey interjected.

“No, I swear I don't know,” I stammered. “I'm sorry.”

Davey sighed loudly. “It’s fine, it's not your responsibility.”

“We're just worried about you, Jack,” Katherine said softly. 

“I'm fine,” Jack replied, too quickly, I'm my opinion. “End of discussion.”

There was a long silence. I sat there uncomfortably, glancing from Jack to the computer screen and back. Jack looked scared, but like he was trying not to show it. 

Then, Sarah asked really quietly, “Jack... was it your foster dad?”

There was another pause. Jack didn’t look anyone in the eye. “I gotta go. Nurses are gonna bring lunch soon.”

Then, he hung up. 

It felt kind of like puzzle pieces coming together. Why he was so scared, who that Snyder guy was. It all made sense. But, I wished it hadn't. Or, I wish it didn't make sense the way it did.

I asked if he was okay.

Jack didn't answer. “Where did I leave off with Santa Fe yesterday?”

“Jack,” I started. I tried to tell him with that word that he could tell me that he was hurting, that he could be silent if he needed to, he could cry. 

“I never finished that drawing,” He said. Then, he picked up the notepad on his bedside table and began drawing.

I asked if I should go back to my bed.

He said he'd like it if I stayed.

So, here we are. I'm still sitting next to him as I write this. He's still drawing. There’s incredible detail in his art. He's putting all his energy into this.

Miss, I hope he knows I'm here for him.

I'm gonna make sure he’s okay.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crutchie is gay and Jack internalizes his feelings and trauma

**10/23**

I ended up falling asleep on Jack’s bed last night. The nurses were kinda ticked that I got up without their permission, but I mean, I get up to use the restroom without their permission, so? I can walk very short distances by myself, like I said.

Anyway, I forgot what time I actually went to sleep last night. I was just watching Jack draw. It’s mesmerizing, Miss. He puts so much care into it. It doesn't seem like a drawing, it seems real. It's really amazing, you should see it!

But, I was watching him draw, and next thing I know, I woke up with my head on his shoulder, all curled up next to him. We was sharing the blanket. It was rather comfy. 

Jack was still asleep when I woke up. Looking at him sleep this time was different than looking at him sleep before. Maybe it’s because I was up closer, or maybe because he wasn't in a coma this time, but it was better. He looked more peaceful. His bruises are fading, and he's breathing easier.

I noticed he's got them little freckles that you don't notice unless you're up real close. You know the kind? I got real big freckles, you know that, but there's something about the real tiny kind. Freckles like mine are like big galaxies, and freckles like Jack’s are like shooting stars or something, and you only see them once in a while, and you feel really lucky when you do. 

(You get bonus points for using figurative language in your journal, right?)

Also, I might have already mentioned this, I don't remember, but his hair looks really soft. Like, geez, what kind of conditioner does this boy use? He's got real nice hair. It's a dark brown, but it's lighter when it catches the light. And, hair that looks good under fluorescent hospital lights is some good hair.

I don't get it. 

What did Jack do to deserve all this? 

Why him? Why did he have to end up with that Snyder guy? Why couldn't someone have seen what Snyder was doing to him before he ended up here? Jack didn't deserve none of this, not one bit. 

Yet here he is.

I wasn't the best about reading  _ To Kill A Mockingbird,  _ you know that. But, I mean, one of the things I learned from it is that bad things happen to good people. There's injustice in the world, and and it ain't always seen right away. I guess that's what happened to Jack. He's a good person who had a bad thing happen to him, and ain't no one saw the injustice before it already happened.

I just want to see him smile again, Miss. I’se only seen him smile a couple times, but Miss, it just lights up the whole room.

Where was I?

Oh, yeah! Here comes the good part! 

So, as I was laying there next to him, waiting for him to wake up, I found the notepad that he drew Santa Fe on sitting on his lap. So, I picked it up, hoping to see the finished product of Santa Fe, but you know what I saw instead? 

Me. 

Jack  _ drew  _ me.

And, Miss, you should have seen it. It was like looking at a mirror. Only, he drew me laughing. Every little detail was just spot-on, really. Each freckle, each line, everything. It was just amazing.

As I was looking at it, I heard a groggy voice ask where he was.

I set the notepad back down on his lap, suddenly feeling bad that I looked at his art without his permission. “You're still in the hospital, Jack.”

Jack rubbed his eyes and turned his head to look down at me, where I was still laying on his shoulder. “Oh, right. Do I make a good pillow?”

My face went red again. “Sure you do.”

Jack yawned. “Good, I wanna be a pillow when I grow up.”

We talked a bit more that morning, both of us sleepy and comfortable. I almost forgot we was in the hospital. 

As far as mornings spent in the hospital go, this one was pretty good.

 

**10/24**

My leg is gonna kill me.

It was doing better, it was, but today...ouch. Major pain day. Of course, the nurses blame it on the fact that I literally walked five feet over to Jack's bed. Big whoop.

They're gonna run some more tests tomorrow. Until then, they gave me some stronger pain meds, but they ain’t doing anything.

Anyway, Jack's friends came to visit today. In person this time. I guess he must have called them again and told them what hospital he was in when I was sleeping or something, because Davey and Katherine showed up today with flowers and stuff. Then, we played some cards. The only card game I know how to play is War, so we did that and it was real fun! 

“So, your name is Crutchie?” Katherine asked at one point, raising an eyebrow as she set down her card.

“I mean, my parents didn't name me that,” I chuckled. “Boy, that'd be a funny twist of fate if they had, though.”

Katherine giggled. “They’d have named you ‘Crutchie’ because fate told them to.”

This time, I have a full-on laugh. “Geez, they’d have set me up for this, huh?” After catching my breath, I shook my head and said, “Nah, they named me Andrew. And, that’s about the only thing I know about ‘em.”

Everyone’s faces fell, giving me the usual pity look. Katherine began an apology, but I cut her off.

“It don't bother me, really,” I explained. “I mean, now I got this whole list of who they might have been. Secret government agents called off on a mission too dangerous for their kid? Wizards whose magical identities were exposed? The possibilities are endless, really.”

“Maybe they was aliens,” Jack chimed in. “And they had to send their son to Earth to see how life goes on there. They’se got a chip in your brain, watching every move.”

I laughed as Davey shook his head. “That's just weird, Jack.”

“You know what's weirder?” Jack countered. “The fact that lobsters don't die of old age.”

“That’s not weird,” Davey scoffed. “It's neat.”

“No, ‘cause there could be some million year old lobster that know everything about the world that we don't,” Jack drowned. “That just ain't fair. And, I coulda gone my whole life without knowing that if  _ you  _ hadn’t told me. Good goin’, Dave.”

“Watch your mouth,” Dave replied. “Or I'll tell you more lobster facts to make you uncomfortable.”

Yeah, things were going pretty well until they started asking him more serious questions.

“So, Jack,” Davey asked. “Do you know when you'll be getting out of here?”

Jack shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Do you have any idea where you'll be going when they let you go?” Katherine questioned. 

Jack shrugged once more and slapped down a card. "I win this round."

"Do you think you'll stay in New York?" Katherine persisted with her questions.

"God, I hope not," Jack muttered. 

"Glad to know you'd miss us," Davey responded flatly.

"No, no, no, it's not you guys," Jack reassured them. "I just wanna change of scene, is all."

"Oh, we know," Davey chuckled. Then, he turned to me and asked, "Has he told you about his western dreams yet?"

"Oh, yes," I grinned.

"I've gotta say, Jack, this whole 'go west, young man' routine is getting tired," Katherine commented.

"Oh, calm down," Jack waved his hand dismissively at her. "I'se been in the system nearly all my life, and they'se never moved me out of New York. I'm sure they'll find a place for me somewhere around here."

I felt what had to be relief wash over me, even though I know very well how the system works. I mean, I don't know, it'd be nice to keep in touch with Jack after we get out, and that'd be a lot easier to do if he's in New York.

"But, how far?" Davey asked. "You're not gonna end up all the way in Brooklyn with Spot again, are you?"

"I dunno," Jack said, shuffling through his cards absent-mindedly. "You'd come visit me if I did end up in Brooklyn, right?"

"Well, duh," Katherine replied. "Still, we'd miss you, Jack. We  _ have _ missed you."

"We're really glad you're okay," Davey added. "Everyone's been so scared."

"Don't get all mushy on me now," Jack chuckled, not looking at either of them. "It's-I'm no big deal."

"Jack, you're one of our best friends," Katherine said softly, reaching for his hand. "Of course you're a big deal. To us, anyway."

Jack kept his eyes trained on the sheet. "Well, thanks," He said awkwardly. 

"Hey, Jack?" She continued speaking in a soft, careful voice, as if she were scared that Jack would shut down if she spoke too loud. "If you're ever not...not safe again, please, please talk to us."

"I talk to you guys plenty," Jack mumbled, pulling his hand away from Katherine.

"Jack, you know what she means," Davey chimed in. 

Jack didn't speak for a while after that. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he asked quietly, "Who's up for another round of War?" 

We played another round of War. It was an awkward game, though. 

Eventually, they left and took the cards with them, which left Jack and I with nothing but the awkward silence. After a while, I asked if he was okay.

"It's my own damn fault, anyway," He muttered finally. 

I felt my face fall. "What?"

"This," Jack motioned to himself. "I mean, Snyder didn't-didn't do all of this. He woulda done none of it if I'd managed to keep my big mouth shut." His voice broke on the last word.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Jack?"

Jack shook his head. "Never mind, never mind, I-I shouldn't have..."

I bit my lip. "Jack, you...you can tell me anything in the world. I promise you. If it would do you better not to say anything, you can do that. I'm-I'm here, any way you need it." 

"I just need my mind off of it," Jack responded, barely audible.

I frowned. "You ever read  _ To Kill A Mockingbird? _ "

Jack shook his head.

"It's a really great book," I smiled softly. "It's a classic for a reason. In the book, there's this part where this character, Scout, she's in this play. And, uh, she's gotta wear this big ham costume."

Jack looked up and over at me. "This what?"

I giggled. "A ham costume. She plays this big piece of ham in her show. And, they made a movie of  _ To Kill A Mockingbird _ , and they got the part where she plays the ham, and I ain't never laughed harder. You want me to show you the picture of the costume?"

Jack almost smiled. "That'd be great."

See, I realized that it's almost like in the book, Miss. You spend the whole time wanting answers about Boo Radley, right? Scout spends all this time trying to get to Boo, you know? But, eventually, she lets it go, and Boo comes to her in the end.

I think that's what I gotta do with Jack, Miss. He's already started coming to me. If I give it time, if I let him be, he'll come to me.

 

**10/25**

Hi.

Um,you know how Crutchie is always writing in that journal of his? I'm bored. So, I'm gonna try it on this notepad here.

Uh, I saw Crutchie writing in his and I asked what it was, so he told me it was his daily school journal and all that, and right now, he's passed out because they ran some tests on him today and the meds made him sleep, and now I'm bored.

I don’t know, I got nothing better to do so? 

Sooooooo…

Crutchie's pretty great. I mean, he's got this frickin’ hereditary disease or something that makes his leg progressively hurt more and more and sometimes causes seizures, he said, but he's still so happy and stuff. Like, I don't know what it is, but he's just like sunshine or something. I swear, sometimes I forget why I'm here because of him.

Um.

What else do I say?

How about this weather?

(It’s better in Santa Fe.)

((Santa Fe doesn't get blizzards.))

(((Santa Fe doesn't have pollution.)))

((((It’s nice and warm and not crowded in Santa Fe.))))

Anyway.

I probably wouldn't be putting this much effort into this if I were required to write in this. How does Crutchie write so much? I'd write like half a page if it were my school journal. I'm only writing this much because I'm bored. But, Crutchie? Damn. 

Ugh, I just want out of here. Of course, maybe I don't. Because I got no clue where they're sending me after this. 

Ughhhh.

(How about they send me to Santa Fe?)

((Santa Fe is rad.))

(((Of course, I ain't speaking from personal experience.)))

((((I ain't been.))))

(((((Maybe I'll just end up running away to Santa Fe.)))))

((((((It wouldn't be the first time I pulled that. As long as the spider is really gone, I could get away with it.))))))

Oh shoot, Crutchie is waking up. Hold on.

 

I'm back.

Crutchie just sat up and asked what I was doing. His hair was all messed up and in his face. I told him I was writing a journal like his and he was like, “What journal?” and I was like, “Your school journal.” and he grinned one of those tired grins and was like, “Alrighty.” and went back to sleep.

Oh, wait, he's waking up again.

  
  


Crutchie woke up again and said some stuff but I mean he probably didn't mean it because you know he's on all those meds but. He asked me if I was gonna leave soon and I said no and asked why and he said that he’d really miss me and that I'm really important to him.

Like I said, he probably don't mean it. He's not thinking straight, he’s half-asleep and his words were all slurred and he ain't gonna remember this in the morning. He couldn't mean that, no. I know better than thinking he meant it.

I'm gonna go now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Romeo calls out Crutchie for pining and Jack gets a backstory

**10/26**

Well.

I got the results back for my tests today. 

I…

Ugh.

I have to get surgery.

It ain't like it's the first time, it's hardly the first time. Still, it's always scary.

I think Jack can tell I'm nervous, too. He keeps asking me if I'm okay. 

I'm fine, though, really. 

You just never know when something will go wrong, you know?

I mean, being in the system, I've heard so many stories from friends in the same group home as me and they'll tell me about how their parents died in freak accidents…

Like surgeries.

Ugh.

I shouldn't get myself all worked up like this. I'll be fine, I know it.

The surgery is in just a few days. I don't really know what they’re doing. They told me, but it's all doctor-speak, you know? Something to try and increase the...spasticity (?) in my leg? 

I don’t know, but I'm supposed to feel better afterwards.

Well, wish me luck. Even though you can't, like before. Ah, well. I guess I don't need you to wish me luck anymore, though.

I got Jack.

 

**10/27**

Guess what? Jack got to meet Romeo today!

I almost couldn't believe it when the nurse said I had a visitor. I thought for sure it was gonna be Davey and Katherine again (which I wouldn't have minded, they is real nice!), and she’d meant to say  _ Jack  _ had a visitor, but then, little Romeo peeked his head around the nurse, his hair sticking up in all directions like usual.

“Romeo!” I exclaimed. “I thought you was never gonna visit me again!”

“You guessed wrong!” Romeo beamed. “I was really behind on math homework, so Kloppman kept me back, and then I had to convince him to let me ride the subway alone.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You rode the subway alone?”

“Hey, I'm a teenager, just like you,” Romeo crossed his arms in a pout.

“Oh, yeah, and you weren't a teenager just a few weeks ago,” I pointed out. “You haven't even been thirteen for a month, calm down.”

Romeo rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of my bed. His gaze fell on Jack. “He’s awake this time?”

“Yes, he is,” Jack replied with a chuckle. “I don’t think we’se met.”

“Well, kind of,” Romeo scrunched up his face in thought. “But you was unconscious, so I don’t think that counts.”

“Allow me,” I cut in with a grin. “Romeo, local flirt, spunky kid, has done some pretty crazy stuff for a twelve-”

“Thirteen!”

“- _ thirteen  _ year old.” I made a point of rolling my eyes before motioning to Jack. “Jack Kelly, local Santa Fe enthusiast, secretly a cowboy, has quite the skill for art.”

“Aw, shut up,” Jack smirked. “I doodle.”

“Pfft! Doodle?” I shook my head incredulously. “Jack, show my little brother here that Santa Fe drawing you did.”

Jack’s face went red, and I felt a certain pride in making  _ him  _ blush for once, instead of the other way around. “My sketchpad’s on the nightstand, I’m bedridden.”

Romeo hopped up and flipped through the sketchpad, eyes widening with every page turn. “You call these doodles?”

Jack shrugged, still red. “Yeah, I mean, I ain't got my supplies anymore, I’se just been using a dull pencil while I’se been here.”

Romeo shook his head and looked at me. “Your pal Jack is being awful modest.”

I laughed. “Modesty’s not a quality you'd pin on him at first, either.”

“You sayin’ I ain't modest?” Jack feigned disbelief. “Me, the great Jack Kelly, not modest?”

I chuckled. “How could I possibly accuse the great Jack Kelly of that?”

Romeo brought Monopoly and we spent the rest of the time playing. It was an intense game. I went bankrupt real fast, but watching Jack and Romeo compete was entertainment enough. If you're ever bored, just pin a cocky 17 year old in a Monopoly match against a prideful 12 year old. Amusement for hours.

Aside from the competitiveness, Jack and Romeo got along real well. It was nice to see that Jack liked one of my best friends. I like his friends, he likes mine...heck, we could make one big group. A boy band + a  Katherine.

Anyway, that's pretty much all that happened today.

I mean, except this, um, conversation I had with Romeo when Jack left to use the restroom. (Which used to be a lot more complicated, but ever since they unhooked him from the heart monitor some time ago, he’s taken advantage of his little opportunity to move around.)

Once Jack was gone, Romeo let out a long whistle.

I raised my eyebrow. “What?”

Romeo laughed. “You drool much?”

I gave him a look. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Romeo pointed at Jack’s empty bed forcefully. “You’se tryin’ to tell me you don't like him one bit?”

“Of course, I-I like him,” I replied, feeling my dang cheeks go red again. “But, not like that! No, no, we’se just friends.”

“Oh, come on,” Romeo scoffed. “You think I'm an idiot, don't you?”

My eyes suddenly found the ceiling very interesting. “No, I never said that, but what-what you're implying is-”

“Absolutely correct,” Romeo cut me off. “Come on, Crutchie. I know it when I see it. They don't call me  _ Romeo _ for nothin’, you know.”

And, that's where that ended because Jack came back in. 

Hmm.

That's one memory to put in the “to ignore” section of my brain, though.

Romeo don't know nothin’ about me and Jack.

Right?

Right . 

Glad that's settled.

 

**10/28**

Today, a social worker came and talked to Jack about where he’s gonna stay once he gets out.

Apparently, that's gonna be real soon.

They say his recovery is phenomenal.

I'm happy for him. Really, I am. I want him to get better, I want him to be happy.

I'm just gonna miss him, is all.

I really hope they don't move him too far. If we could stay friends, after all this is over. Maybe we'd be able to hang out outside of a hospital room.

I could take him to that coffee shop by the school! I never really drink the coffee there, to be honest. I’m not a coffee person, I usually just get tea or cocoa. But, it's such a cozy little building, and the people there are so friendly. Jack would like it. It ain't too crowded, and if you're a regular (like me), the workers remember your name. Maybe it’d be a little like Santa Fe for him.

I mean, that's only if they don't move him too far.

If they bring him to Brooklyn, though...I mean, that ain’t too far. Plus, Davey And Katherine said they got a friend in Brooklyn, right? Surely, I could visit there every once in awhile.

I don’t know.

It’s all hypothetical. 

Jack is sleeping right now, but I'll ask him what they told him in the morning.

I can't really wrap my head around How different it’ll feel without Jack around. I didn't even know him a few weeks ago, but now... 

I can’t imagine life without him.

 

**10/29**

I didn't learn where Jack's going, but I learned a lot about where he’s been.

I asked him what the social worker told him and he said he don't know where they're gonna bring him yet. He said they just asked him a few questions. He seemed upset.

“Are you okay?” I'd asked after he gave me short, dejected answers.

Jack nodded, not looking at me.

It was quiet for a bit before I said, “Moving is hard, I know. We can talk about it, if you want.”

Jack glanced at me. “I ain’t moved houses in a long time. I was with...I was in the same place for a year.”

This felt like someone punched me in the stomach. I know what happened in his last home. (Kind of.) But, he had to go through it for a year? “Oh my gosh...Jack, I'm so sor-”

“Don't apologize,” Jack cut me off, wearing a very fake grin. “It’s-it’s all been...it looks worse than it was.”

I swallowed hard, unsure how to ask the question that had been tugging at my mind ever since Sarah figured out it was Snyder who did it. I swallowed a second time, and quietly asked, “Did it-did it happen..often?”

Jack shook his head, understanding quickly what I was alluding to. “Most of this,” He motioned to his bruises, which had faded into dull purples and blues. “Most of it’s my own damn fault.” He let out a forced chuckle. “Tryin’ to, uh, get to Santa Fe, you know.”

I felt my eyebrows furrow. “Were you running away?”

Jack nodded, scratching the back of his head. “I jumped out my bedroom window with a pillowcase full of clothes. I only lived on the second story of the building, landed in a bush.” He pointed to some scars on his arms. “That did some of the damage.”

There was another silence. I didn't want to go too far, I didn't want Jack to shut down and go to the Santa Fe in his head. But, Jack seemed to be opening up, and I'd like to imagine it was helping him heal.

So, I asked, still tentative, “What-what made you want to run away?”

Jack sighed. “A hell of a lot of things. The Spider- that's what I call him, it's easier than sayin’ his name- he-he would say stuff that'd, uh, mess with my head. He’d say stuff that made me feel like crap. And...when I, uh, messed up, he would sometimes...he’d threaten to...to hurt me, b-but he never did. Only little...little slaps here and there, nothin’ like-like this.

“But, one day, I said I was sick of it, and I tried to run away. Found a bus to Santa Fe and decided that was that. But, he musta seen me leaving, or-or something, ‘cause next thing I know, he was on my tail.”

Jack paused for a moment, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. His face was splotchy, the way it gets when you cry. I thought maybe he was done. I was about to say something, but then, he said more. He began talking very fast, instead of the hesitant way he’d spoken before.

“I-I was at the bus stop, and he was real close, and-and I tried to get on th-the bus. An-and then, he-he grabbed me by the waist, y-yanked me off. And-and then…” He let out a shaky breath and pulled his knees up to his chest, unable to hold back sobs anymore.

I felt my heart drop to my stomach. I never imagined that someone could be so twisted.

But, here it is. 

Jack's asleep now. He was pretty exhausted after telling me what happened. I can't blame him.

I can't undo the past. I can't go back and make what happened to Jack un-happen. 

But, I really, really wish I could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there y'all,,,


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they all lived happily ever after (jk there's a sequel with even more angst lol)

**10/30**

Jack slept in real late this morning. He sure needed it. When he woke up, his eyes weren't nearly as dark as usual, and he looked healthier. It's like I got a glimpse of the Jack that's inside.

But, he was quiet when he woke up.

“How are you?” I asked eventually.

Jack shrugged. “Last night was, uh, the first time I've said any of that out loud by choice.” He chuckled unhumorously. “Now, you know just how screwed up I am, huh.”

I shook my head. “That's okay. You don’t gotta be fine. No one can expect you to be fine after something like that.”

Jack glanced at me. “I'm- I’m scared, Crutch. This is somethin’ I ain’t ever gonna be unable to undo. I'm still gonna get nightmares, I'm still gonna hear his voice in my head. There’s always gonna be a part of me that believes what all the things that he said to me.”

“But, you're more than that,” I said quietly, almost a whisper. 

Then, there was something about him. Maybe it was because of what he told me. maybe it was something that was there all along, that I just didn't feel until then. But, there was something that let me know that I could tell Jack anything. I could tell him anything in the world, and I wanted to. I could trust him, fully and completely. I don’t know if I've ever been able to do that.

“I ain't never told no one this,” I began, pulling my good leg up to my chest and looking Jack straight in the eye. “But, uh, I was lyin’ when I said I didn't know nothing about my parents, besides what they named me. Nah, uh, my mom. She was left by my dad. It was just me and her, when I was real young. I don't remember her, or my dad, for that matter, but I know the story. When I was two, they told her I'd inherited HSP from a, um, recessive gene in my dad. 

“Not too long after that, they…” I took in a deep breath. I’d never said it out loud before. I’d never even written it down. “They found my mom a few weeks later,dead. It looked like a-a suicide, but they'se always tellin’ me it was never confirmed. Coulda been an accident.”

Jack’s lips parted slightly, that sympathetic look that I would get from foster parents who knew what happened showing up on his face. He began to apologize, but I waved him off. “Thanks, Jack, but-but all that ain't my point.

“I used to blame myself for it. Sometimes, I still do. A lot of times, I do.” I took in another breath. “But, Jack, you-you gotta remember, when people see you, they don’t see your past. I look at you, and I don't see what happened. I see someone strong, someone who's witty and charming, brave and a friend. An incredible friend.”

I sighed again. It was strange, having my past out the air like that. But, I don't think I could have handled having it out there if it was anyone other than Jack in that room.

“That was probably really bad,” I chuckled nervously. “I was tryin’ to make you feel better.”

I looked over at him, raising my eyebrows expectantly. He stared at me, as if he were waiting for a second part to my sob story to escape.

But, finally, he cracked a small smile. It was shaky, it was tiny, but it was genuine. Real and genuine. 

“I thought I was crazy for trusting you,” Jack chuckled. “Turns out, you trust me, too.” His smile faded. “I'm really sorry for all that happened, Crutch. You don't deserve that, none of that. But, thank you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

Jack shrugged. “For everything you said.”

We were silent for a little bit. It was peaceful, though, not awkward.

After a little bit, he asked, “Can I come over there?”

“I thought you weren't supposed to get outta bed,” I replied.

“Well, neither are you,” Jack retorted, already standing up. “But, I suppose, I'm a rebel.”

He sat down beside me, and put an arm around me. We were quiet, but it was the good kind of quiet again. It felt safe.

“You know, Crutch,” He said eventually, with a sigh. “I think, since I met you, and you met me, I think we're gonna turn out okay.”

I felt a smile spread across my face. It was shaky and small, but genuine. “I think so, too.”

 

**10/31**

Well.

Today's the big day.

Surgery. 

(Surgery on Halloween, spooky.)

Whoo.

They already got me on a dose of sleep meds right now, Miss, and then, they'll actually put me under when I go in.

Jack’s leaving soon, too. In fact, I don't even think he'll be here when I wake up from surgery.

Maybe meeting Jack really was one big dream, Miss. I'm in surgery right now, and it's all a dream.

Nah.

Jack's real.

They got me in a special room for the procedure right now. Before they took me, I realized I had to say goodbye first. (We were literally out in the hallway, and then, I ran- well, more hobbled, my leg is so stiff and sore right now- back to the room.)

“Wow, that was a quick surgery,” Jack joked.

I made my way to his desk, and scrawled my address on the bottom of one of the pages in his sketchpad. “Just in case, uh, you're in your new home by the time I come to.”

Jack looked down at the address and smirked. “We gonna send letters?”

“Only if you want to.”

Jack chuckled. “So old-school.”

I chuckled back. The words were hard to get out, extremely hard, but I managed to say it. “See you later, Jack.”

I turned to go away, but Jack called. “Hey! You don't think you're gonna go get some surgery without a proper farewell, huh?”

I went back over to his bed, and he sat up and hugged me. (He’s a real good hugger, Miss.)

“Good luck,” He whispered, still holding on to me. “And, remember, if they happen to bring another kid in here who’s in a coma while you're still getting over the sleep meds, tell them how good-looking they are. A sure-fire friendship starter, for sure.”

I laughed. “As long as you tell the people you meet at your new home that you heard everything they said while you was sleeping.”

We pulled back to where we weren't bugging anymore, but Jack had both his hands on my shoulders. 

“One more thing before you go,” He said. “You made your classic book reference with  _ To Kill A Mockingbird _ , so it's my turn to impress you with my knowledge.” He paused. “Well, I don't know if this was in the book, but I know it was in the movie. In  _ Peter Pan _ , Wendy gives Peter a thimble when they say goodbye.”

Suddenly, Jack pulled me forward and gave me what was definitely not what I was expecting; a kiss.

Miss, Jack just bested himself in how much he managed to make me blush.

Don't tell him, but maybe Romeo actually had a point.

Before I could say anything else, the nurses told me it was time to go. As I left, though, I could have sworn I heard one nurse say to the other, “I called it.”

I gotta go now, Miss. They’re gonna put me under.

I'd say “wish me luck”, but hey, Jack already did. I got all the luck I need.

 

**11/7**

I got news!! I got news, I got news, I got big news!!!

Ah, okay, let me start from the beginning of the day.

Can you believe it? One month ago, they put me in the hospital and I started writing all this. It feels like so much longer. 

Anyway, after a whole month, they finally let me go. It's about time. They told Kloppman to let me take it easy, yadda, yadda, still recovering, yadda yadda, I can't go back to school for a while, yeah, yeah.

But, the important part is, I was going home! Finally! I get to see the boys again, I won't be in a stark, white room with condescending nurses. 

(And, maybe I was hoping to find a letter from someone when I got there. Maybe. And an explanation for that thimble?)

So, he checked me out, I get back home, I reunite with the boys and they catch me up on what's happened since I've been gone. They told me that Miss Medda, who owns the community theatre next door, got a foster kid, and that I was really gonna like him.

Then, a really strange thing happened.

It was real late. Kloppman had gone to sleep, and that was when Romeo and Buttons decided that they were gonna sneak me to the community theatre to meet the foster kid.

It was 10 p.m., I was recovering from surgery, and they decided that then was the perfect time to go.

So, they dragged me over there, in the freezing cold. We'd even had our first snow of the season a few days ago, but that didn't stop them.

Okay, here's where it gets good.

They knocked on the door, and I’m expecting to see Miss Medda, right?

But, instead, I was greeted by a familiar voice. “Did ya miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it,,,,congrats,,,,,,you win,,,,,,


End file.
